


Watching the Sunrise

by silverwolf_fox



Series: Watching the Sunrise [2]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family, First Meetings, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mother-Son Relationship, OP Big Bang, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24404662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverwolf_fox/pseuds/silverwolf_fox
Summary: Many years have passed since Rouge gave up her life for her son’s...except she didn’t die, but she thinks Ace did. Living her life on Baterilla, she’s mourned each and every day until the morning she receives his bounty poster. She sets off immediately to find him, but finds their meeting isn’t as easy as she’d imagined.
Relationships: Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco/Portgas D. Ace, Gol D. Roger/Portgas D. Rouge, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Portgas D. Ace & Portgas D. Rouge
Series: Watching the Sunrise [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1833424
Comments: 44
Kudos: 275
Collections: One Piece Big Bang 2019/2020, Pyro's Faves





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rouge’s epithet is borrowed from [stereden’s](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stereden) [“Watashitachi wa Roger kaizoku desu” series.](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1199698) I highly recommend checking it out!
> 
> All art was courtesy of the lovely [@callanway](https://callanway.tumblr.com/)!!  
> [Check out all this story's art here!](https://callanway.tumblr.com/post/619316177080074240)

Seventeen years had passed since she gave birth to a perfect baby boy.

Seventeen long years since a Marine Vice-Admiral came to take him away.

Seventeen impossible years since she received a call.

The one telling her that her son didn’t survive the journey.

* * *

Dawn’s light rose over the horizon, shining on a woman already awake and silently sitting in her garden. It was a chilly morning, unsurprising since it was the first day of the new year, but with Batarilla’s gentle winters, the sun easily warmed her skin as it rose.

This was the best part of her day. Watching the rising sun paint colors across the sea and sky always filled her with the strength needed to push through the day. Eventually, she knew she couldn’t stay any longer; flowers didn’t sell themselves, after all. She rose from the small wooden bench only to kneel beside her flowerbed.

Two round, unmarked stones stood out amidst the colorful petals. The woman pressed a kiss to her fingers and lightly touched them.

“Good morning, my loves, and happy birthday, Ace.”

* * *

The day the News Coo came felt like any other. 

Rouge had just gone inside after watching the sunrise to make a cup of tea when the bird appeared and started to rapidly peck at her kitchen window. Setting the kettle on the stove, she went to lift up the window pane so the News Coo could perch on the sill and lean his large head inside.

Rouge smiled softly and gathered the berries to pay the delivery bird, who pulled out a folded up newspaper from his side satchel with his beak and handed it to her. Before he flew off, she fetched a treat that he gratefully gobbled up. He turned around, gave a heavy beat of his wings, and left for his next delivery. Even after the News Coo flew away, she decided to leave the window open to allow the salty ocean air to breeze inside her cottage.

Rouge dropped the newspaper on the kitchen table to finish preparing her morning tea. It wouldn’t be long until she’d have to take her flower cart down to the market, so she sat down and flipped past the main headlines, pulling out the updated bounty posters instead. The life of a pirate may be far behind her, but Rouge liked to keep up with notable rookies and, of course, keep track of her old friends.

There was a book in her living room where she kept hidden any bounty posters regarding her old crew and anyone from the Roger Pirates. She even had a few of Whitebeard’s men.

Softly blowing across the top of her cup to cool down the steaming black tea, Rouge took a sip and delved into the bounties. It seemed Brownbeard was still trying to make a name for himself, and even one of Big Mom’s sons got an increase. Overall, it was just a few updates and no one that she was particularly interested in until she flipped over the last page.

A freckled face grinned up at her.

All she could hear was static as her vision zeroed in on the name.

**_PORTGAS D. ACE_ **

The teacup slipped from her fingers and clattered to the table, but she paid no mind to the spilt tea or chipped rim as she clutched at the paper with shaking hands. The chair scraped backwards against the floor when she shot to her feet, but a sudden dizzy spell sent the world spinning sideways. Dropping the bounty poster to grab the edge of the table was all that kept her upright.

Feeling lightheaded, Rouge grabbed the page, inadvertently crinkling it in her fist in her haste to stumble outside to her garden. She fell to her knees in the dirt beside the memorial stones. Different emotions clashed within her as she smoothed out the image of the freckle-faced pirate against the smooth face of her baby’s symbolic grave. Joy, anger, fear, guilt, hope.

Last time she felt so much at once, she was watching Navy soldiers plague her island.

Tears fell but they did nothing to dim the smile spreading across her face. Her shaking fingers traced the pictured boy’s face, and she knew what she had to do. 

Rouge took the poster back inside and went straight to her bedroom. Hidden beneath her bed was a dark wood trunk coated in a thick layer of dust. Inside were remnants of a life long since passed. She quickly changed into the loose tan pants, tucking them into a pair of worn leather boots, and a pale blue peasant top.

A spot of red within the chest demanded her attention. Her heart thudded painfully, and she reached in to slowly pull out the flower bud. Her most precious treasure, an Eternal Hibiscus from Rosie Island. Famous for never wilting, even when plucked or deprived of water and sunlight, it had been her favorite of Roger’s attempted courtship gifts, and the one that made her finally say yes. They close their petals when exposed to constant darkness, so when Rouge gently placed it in a spot of sunlight on her bed, it blossomed back into life within minutes.

After she was told Ace had died, she’d put the flower away where she would never see it but now, as she pulled her hair up into a high ponytail, the crimson hibiscus found its home once again in her strawberry blonde locks.

Her sword and daggers were familiar weights as she strapped them on to her waist and thighs. It felt strange to wear her old clothes, carry her old weapons, but there was a pleasant nostalgia in it. She grabbed a rucksack and ran about her cottage filling it with whatever she might need, including every last beri she had.

When she locked the door behind her, her hands lingered on the door handle. There was no way to know when or even if she’d be able to return, but she knew the risk was well worth the journey. Before leaving, Rouge visited the flowerbed to kiss Roger goodbye. Though she knew he’d understand why she had to leave, she felt bad that he’d have to watch the sun rise without her for awhile. One last look out to sea to steel her nerves, and Rouge headed into town.

The dirt path leading from her isolated cottage had grooves worn from the many years of pulling her cart to and from the market. There were a few people quietly going about their business when she reached the edge of town. Once open and friendly, a solemness weighed heavily in the air.

Baterilla had never fully recovered after the Marines invaded. For too long, Rouge’s beautiful flowers had adorned caskets more than anything else.

A part of her wanted to feel guilty. After all, the child the Marines had searched for had been her own, and all she’d have had to do to stop the massacre was give herself up. Give up her child. Perhaps it was her love as a mother or maybe even her selfishness as a pirate, but she never felt any regret.

Of all the unborn babes ripped from their mother’s womb, of the mothers dying of heartbreak, Rouge would have watched a hundred more die if it meant she could have kept her son.

People stared at her as she walked by, several doing double-takes when they didn’t immediately recognize her, but she calmly returned their gazes, even giving what she hoped was a convincing smile. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever know why no one turned her in. Many of them knew that Roger only visited to see her - it wasn’t as if the man had been subtle about his affections - but the Marines never came knocking on her door.

Aside from a couple stops to pick up more food, Rouge went straight to the harbor. She strode to an unused boat at the farthest end of the dock, away from anyone that might try to stop her, and untied it. There was no time for any hesitation, and by the time someone started shouting and heavy boots pounded in her direction, she was already catching wind.

Rouge looked back at the man standing on the dock. She recognized him. He had bought flowers for his wife the week before. Raising a hand in a brief wave, the only apology she was willing to give, she turned back to sea and let Baterilla shrink into the distance.

With the ropes secure and a steady pace set, Rouge sat down to look at her map of the South Blue, marking off islands to stop at. It would already take weeks just to reach Reverse Mountain, but the boat she stole wouldn’t make it all the way there without restocking supplies. Though large enough to have two sails and a small sleeping space below deck, it was still small enough that she shouldn’t have too much difficulty sailing it by herself.

Travelling the South Blue was relatively easy compared to the unpredictable nature that Rouge knew awaited her in the Grand Line, but even with good weather it took her the better part of three weeks to reach the Red Line. The rain started well before she could see the mountain through the heavy fog, and it only poured harder as she approached.

Doing this alone in a vessel barely larger than a fishing boat would require precision and timing.

And more than a little luck.

Rouge was thrown to the side when the boat viciously jerked, and she gasped painfully when her stomach collided with the bulwark. She spat out the bile that rose from the collision and used her spot hanging over the side to confirm that the massive current had caught the ship and was sweeping it towards the mountain. She hastily shoved herself away from the side and ran back to the helm.

Both sails had already been tied up since she wouldn’t be able to manage them and the helm at once, and she would rely solely on the current to take her to the summit. The waves crashing against the hull threatened to throw her overboard, but Rouge grasped the wheel and planted her feet as if she could grow roots into the deck.

Between the rocking sea and the wind whipping around her, adrenaline pumped through her veins and Rouge couldn’t help the excited grin taking over her face. So much time spent on peaceful Baterilla had made her forget how much she had loved the dangers of the ocean. As the bottom of the mountain came ever closer, Rouge took deep, calming breaths to prepare herself.

The bow was pointed straight at the entrance, and, drawing on an inner power she’d been neglecting, black Armament Haki coated her arms to protect them from the strain of keeping it steady against the powerful current. Then came the difficult part that, in all honesty, she wasn’t sure would work. She used haki to strengthen her legs and extended the Armament first to her feet and then pushed its limits, forcing it to stretch farther down into the very wood of the ship.

It wasn’t so different from coating a weapon in haki, albeit with a rather massive size difference. 

Utilizing her Armament to such an extent after so long, Rouge was already feeling the strain when her boat hit the base and started shooting up. Aches in her arms from taking the helm, constantly coming within inches of knocking against the rock walls on either side of her, and the pressure deep in her mind from holding the Armament Haki for so long stretched minutes into hours. Beads of sweat broke out along her hairline, mixing with the heavy raindrops pelting her face.

Harsh winds bit into her flushed cheeks, and she had to squint her eyes against the stormy weather. Rouge wanted to cry in relief when she breached the summit, but she forced herself to remain vigilant, to keep her haki focused. The battle was only half won. Going down Reverse Mountain was just as dangerous.

The force of the water sent her ship airborne at the top, and Rouge felt her heart stop for a moment when she crashed back down. If not for the coating of protective haki, her small boat would have been smashed to pieces. The top of the mountain was surrounded by a thick layer of cloud cover that made it hard for Rouge to see, but luckily the waters shoved her into the downward current and sent her towards the Grand Line.

With gravity on her side, the trip down was faster, and she couldn’t help the cheer she shouted when she reached the bottom in one piece. The boat got pushed to the side out of the current and, with the sails up, didn’t go very far past the Twin Peaks. Releasing her Armament Haki left her gasping for air in relief, and, in the sudden stillness as she finally stood in the Grand Line, the entire culmination of the past few weeks hit her.

Rouge dropped to her knees, utterly exhausted both mentally and physically, and didn’t know whether to laugh or sob. So she did both. She cried until her eyes turned red and laughed until her belly ached before falling backwards and stretching her limbs across the sodden deck to take in the warm sunlight. Keeping her eyes open proved an impossible task, and the soft rocking of the boat quickly lulled her to sleep.

When she woke up, Rouge immediately realized she was in a bed, and the lack of a gentle swaying motion meant she was on land. A little Observation Haki and she knew that she was alone, so she sat up and catalogued everything. She was still wearing her clothes, and her weapons were propped against the wall right next to the head of the bed she was lying in. But-

Rouge grabbed at her left ear and cried out when she felt nothing. She was moments away from finding and slaughtering whoever took her memento until she saw her beloved Eternal Hibiscus on the bedside table, unnoticed in her franticness. It was quickly placed back in her hair, and Rouge strapped on her daggers, keeping her sword ready in hand for whoever waited for her on the other side of that closed door.

As it turned out, an ordinary living room was waiting for her.

Cautiously keeping her footsteps as silent as possible, she wandered into the room, scanning to make sure it was empty. It was obviously someone’s house, but it couldn’t have been possible for her to float to an island. That is, unless, another ship found her while she slept. Tightening her grip on her sword, Rouge found the door leading outside and, very slowly and very quietly, opened it.

To her right was a white lighthouse, behind which she could hear the rushing waters of Reverse Mountain, and in front of her, lounging in a lawn chair on the stone ledge of the Twin Peaks, was a flower headed man she never thought to see again. She only made it a few steps closer before he spoke without bothering to turn around.

“I thought I’d finally gone senile, but only ‘Blackjack’ Rouge could have enough luck to traverse Reverse Mountain by herself in that tiny ass thing and survive.”

Fighting back a snort and sheathing her sword, Rouge couldn’t help herself and said, “You were always senile.” The man huffed but stood up and walked over to her. They exchanged similar narrow-eyed expressions before Rouge broke out into a smile and threw her arms around him. “It’s so good to see you, Crocus!”

As if her hug somehow confirmed she wasn’t a ghost, the old doctor returned the affection, if somewhat reluctantly. Rouge took pity on him and pulled away, knowing he had never been fond of a lot of physical affection. He invited her inside for tea and explained that she’d been asleep since the day before, unsurprising considering the energy she’d expended, and that her boat was tied up at the coast.

Once the drink was brewed, they sat down at the table and shared a brief moment of silent contemplation. Finally, Crocus had to ask, “What’s brought you back? We thought you were never going to leave that little island.”

Rouge stroked a slender finger along the rim of her cup. “My son.”

The confusion that wrinkled Crocus’ face only lasted a second. “The Fire Fist kid?” He took a sip and let loose a long sigh after she nodded. “So he is yours. It’s hard to believe in coincidences that strong.”

“I have to find him.”

Crocus led her out to her boat once they finished their tea. Except for some minor mental fatigue, Rouge was physically fine and refused to put off her departure. Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell her which path her son took, and Rouge bit the tip of her thumb in thought. The odds of picking the right way weren’t very high which meant her best bet was to cut him off at the Sabaody Archipelago.

“Good luck.”

She planted her hands on her hips and laughed. “Just who do you think you’re talking to?” The doctor gave a flat stare but cracked a small smile. They stared at each other until Rouge gave him one last hug, feeling his arm fall around her shoulders. Her face was smothered against his chest, and it muffled her quiet, “Thank you.”

“I don’t need thanks from you, Rouge,” he assured her.

She shook her head and leaned back slightly. “Not just for this.” A soft smile touched her lips, and she elaborated, “I never got the chance to thank you for taking care of Roger.”

He barked a laugh. “I deserve a damn medal for looking after that old fool. Bastard was terrible at taking orders.” His words made her chuckle, and a few tears welled in the corners of her eyes.

“He never did like to do what he was told,” she agreed. Her heart welled with fondness. It had been so long since she was able to speak with someone about Roger. With someone who truly knew him. The desire to stay and reminisce was overpowering, but she forced herself to step away.

Rouge hopped down into her boat, and Crocus untied it from the cliffside, tossing the rope onto the deck. Neither of them were interested in a long goodbye, so she shoved off from the rocks and waved. Before getting too far out, Rouge fetched the Log Pose in her bag and put it on her wrist. She closed her eyes, held out her arm, and took a deep breath.

“Come on, luck. Lead me to my son.” She looked at the needle. It had chosen its path, and so had Rouge.

The wind caught her sails and sent her flying across the open ocean.

This. She had missed _this_. The way the sun glistened on the waters of the Grand Line had always been more beautiful than any other Blue. Dusk was already approaching, thanks to the time she spent asleep in Crocus’ house, and Rouge trimmed the jib before sitting back to watch the orange and purple light paint the sky.

Crossing Reverse Mountain made everything so real. Rouge went downstairs and lied down on the stiff bed. With how unpredictable the weather could be, she wouldn’t change out of her daywear in case a storm in the night forced her above deck. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but neither would adjusting the rigging while wearing a nightgown. She did at least take off her boots and drop them to the floor before propping her knees up on the mattress.

She pulled out Ace’s bounty poster and leaned it against her thighs. One arm folded behind to cushion her head while the other’s hand softly stroked her son’s cheek.

“My sweet, baby boy,” she whispered. There was only so much she could tell from a picture, but it looked like he had her freckles. Roger would’ve liked that. That man had been obsessed with the smattering of dots across her cheeks, always insisted on trying to count them, though she’d never understood the appeal. But now? Seeing them add a boyish charm to her son, she couldn’t help but want to count them, too. She also noticed he had her wavy hair but Roger’s color.

Rouge fell asleep staring at his likeness and thinking about when they’d meet.

Would he be happy to see her?

In her dreams, she saw Ace running towards her with a smile as wide as his father’s.

* * *

Days were long, and sleep was done in two hour shifts interspersed between every four hours, day and night, to minimize the risk of being caught unaware. Sailing the ship by herself left her muscles aching, but they fared better than when she had first started in the South Blue. Her body had quickly adapted to the hard labor, as if her years on Baterilla never happened.

Waking hours were spent watching the Log Pose and scanning the horizon for other vessels, while sleep was usually fitful, holding Ace’s picture close to her heart. Some days she’d put up the sails and drift in order to do some fishing. Since she didn’t have a rod, she’d tie a rope around her waist and dive into the water with her daggers. Her way was more fun, anyway, and it was the closest she’s gotten to a bath since leaving home.

Between her complicated sleep schedule, bare bones diet, and constant use of Observation Haki, as well as Armament the one night a sea king attacked and tried to take a bite out of her little boat, the only chance for actual rest was when she was docked. Even then it wasn’t for long. Rouge had no way of knowing how long her son had been in Paradise, but he was at least a few weeks ahead of her. Every second counted if she was going to beat him to Sabaody, so she had a procedure for each island she landed at.

She always docked near the edge of the port but never at the very end. Out of the way enough to avoid excessive attention but less at risk of an ambush. She stayed one night in an inn, _only one_ , ate her weight in healthy food, and the next morning, she’d wake up and restock supplies.

The final task was imperative for leaving in one day, at least it was for any island that had a longer reset time. Asking around was usually enough to find out how long the various ships had been docked which told her who would have a ready Log Pose. Thankfully for her, pirates loved their booze, no matter what time of day, and there wasn’t a person alive safe from ‘Blackjack’ Rouge’s sticky fingers. A flirty smile, some wayward touches, and she was one Log Pose richer. And sometimes a few berries richer, too.

Not that she was so heartless as to leave them with nothing. She always exchanged their’s with her own, so at worst they only faced a small delay. Or a large one, as was the case with the island that took three months to reset.

Since the News Coo seemed to have trouble finding her out at sea, islands were also her chance to check a newspaper for signs of Ace. She found out that he was captain of his own crew, and part of her felt a little smug that they were called the Spade Pirates. More importantly, he was alive and still in Paradise.

There was very little to distract herself with on the open seas - not that she’d prefer otherwise since the alternative usually involved dangerous storms or enemy crews - so her thoughts strayed towards her family.

She missed watching the sunrise with Roger. Maybe Ace would watch them with her. A smile brightened up her face every time she thought of her son. The poster showed her what he looked like, but she wondered what he was like. He was a pirate, which didn’t say much for his respect towards authority, but at least he came by it honestly.

The news never talked about him burning down innocent towns, a welcome relief, but was he kind? Selfish? Did he have his father’s boisterous laugh or her subtle nature? Well, subtle might be a pipe dream judging by the stetson he wore in his poster. _As stylish as his father with that ridiculous straw hat_ , she mused drolly. Roger had loved that thing, and Rouge couldn’t believe when he’d given it to one of the cabin boys on his ship.

Smiling fondly at the memories, Rouge took one last look at her Log Pose. The needle was pointing down, which could only mean Fishman Island. She walked to the bow and gazed out. The Red Line should be well within her sights soon enough, and from there it wouldn’t take long to find the archipelago.

As it was, it only took another two days of sailing before she caught sight of the large mangrove trees. As beautiful as it was dangerous, Rouge deftly floated between the roots and planned to stay out of sight as much as possible. She needed information, and she already knew the best place to get it.

Each step up the long staircase to the bar filled her with new hope until she was running to the top. She flung the door open and felt the air rush from her lungs when she met the cool gaze of the establishment’s owner. Leaning against the other side of the bar counter, flipping through a newspaper with one hand and holding a mug of what Rouge knew to be coffee in the other, the dark-haired woman’s eyes widened as she drew in a sharp breath that belied her cool tone.

“Well, well. Of all the bars in the Blues, you stumble into mine.”

Rouge smiled softly. “Hello, Shakky.”

Shakky set down her coffee, pulled out two glasses from behind the counter, and poured them both a drink of whiskey. “Have a seat. I have a feeling this is going to be a long story.”

The two of them ended up talking for hours, starting with the rumors surrounding the disappearance of Blackjack and her crew. Unsurprisingly, Shakky already knew what really happened, but they laughed over the ideas people had come up with. Rouge’s personal favorite was either the one where she was secretly a Marine sent to spy on Roger or that she was waiting on Raftel for him to return. Whether to kiss or kill him, no one seemed to be able to agree. She told her about her life on Baterilla, glancing over the massacre and focusing on her less exciting but beautiful flower garden, and ended by explaining her reason for returning to the sea and stopped just short of pleading for news on her son.

As usual, Shakky had all the information that Rouge could have asked for.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t good news. Despite all her efforts, she hadn’t made it in time. Actually, it sounded like she’d missed Ace and his crew by a couple weeks. Even with the head start he’d had, he would have had to rush through Paradise to still be that far ahead of her, but she couldn’t understand why he’d do something like that. Roger loved taking his time to explore everything each island had to offer.

A long pull of whiskey burned Rouge’s throat as it went down. If Ace was already in the New World, then that wasn’t a place she could easily follow. All by herself with the small ship she had claimed as her own, getting to Fishman Island alone would be a suicide mission. Not to mention that the last time she crossed into the New World...

Seeing the dark cloud taking form over Rouge’s head, Shakky interjected, “You should stick around for dinner. My hubby should be here soon.”

“Hub- you’re _married_?” Effectively shocked out of her darker thoughts, Rouge had trouble coming to terms with Shakky’s waggish use of the word “hubby”.

“I am, and I think he’d be happy to see you.” Just as she finished speaking, the front door to the bar opened, and Shakky smirked over her guest’s shoulder.

“Well I’ll be damned.” The familiar voice had Rouge spinning in her chair so quickly her hair whipped around.

Happy tears misted Rouge’s brown eyes as she leapt from her seat and wrapped her arms around the silver-haired man. “Rayleigh!” Held tightly in his warmth, in the arms of someone she knew had loved Roger as much as she did, she suddenly found herself weeping. On the evening of the execution, Rouge had been curled up in her bed alone, her choked sobs the only thing that broke the silence his death laid over her home. Baterilla wasn’t large enough to warrant a live video feed, not that she could’ve made herself watch such a thing anyway, but, though impossible, she knew exactly when it happened, because in that very moment, she felt a piece of her heart break.

Far too many years late, Rouge soaked up the comfort Rayleigh had to offer, fingers clutching at his back like claws. Many people back home knew what she had with Roger, but none of them could truly understand her pain.

When her eyes started to dry, Rayleigh commented, seemingly out of the blue, “I’m glad to see that flower’s survived all these years. Makes all that trouble worth it.” Rouge huffed a laugh and released him, wiping a few remaining tears away before raising a hand to brush a finger along the crimson petals above her left year.

“Trouble?” she asked with a curious smile, welcoming the light-hearted distraction he was offering.

Stifling a laugh, Rayleigh sat down next to where she had been and thanked Shakky for the matching whiskey glass she handed him. “I can’t believe he never told you, though at the time you were less than enthused about his intentions, so I guess I understand why he didn’t want to tell you there was a plaque proclaiming you both as lovers.”

Rouge’s tears quickly turned to laughter as she listened to Rayleigh explain the very particular laws Rosie Island had when it came to plucking an Eternal Hibiscus. After spending a night in the local jail, Roger had to explain to a very ornery council why he didn’t submit an application for approval before taking one, who it was he planned to give it to, and why their love story was worthy of such an honor. Of course, with the way Roger told it, he and Rouge should’ve had their own legend and a star constellation to go with it. A tale woven from love at first sight, fateful meetings across the sea, and a man who was determined to prove his love against all odds.

Driving them all to tears, Roger was allowed to leave with the Eternal Hibiscus once his and Rouge’s names were engraved on the Eternal Love plaque that stood in the town center.

Drinking well into the night, her heart felt lighter than it had in a long time. They insisted she stay the night, to which she was extremely grateful, and that there would be plenty of time to discuss more serious topics the next day.

It was a welcome change to be able to sleep without one eye open and know that nothing would try to harm her while she slept. They set her up in the spare room in their apartment above the bar, and her body sank into a mattress that was far softer than the one on her ship or at any of the inns she had stayed at. Sleep claimed her quickly. It was deep and dreamless, and when she finally woke up, she felt pinpricks of guilt when she saw the sun was already blazing bright outside.

She took advantage of their shower before stumbling downstairs feeling clean and refreshed for the first time in months. Roughly scrubbing away the layer of grime that had become like a second skin left her with a pinkish glow, and her hair was finally free of salt and hanging soft and wavy down her back. A pair of Shakky’s pants hung tight across her hips, and Rayleigh’s shirt swamped her since the alternative was one of his wife’s form-fitting crop tops.

Her hosts were awake and waiting for her in the bar, and from the looks they gave her when she walked in, they were talking about her.

“Good morning, Rouge.” Rayleigh saluted her with his flask, which Rouge raised an incredulous brow at. “It’s a bit closer to lunch now, but how about some breakfast?” She nodded gratefully and relaxed onto one of the barstools and, while he went to open the fridge, Shakky placed a hot cup of black tea in front of her.

They chatted contentedly until Rayleigh set down a plate, took a seat next to her, and said, “We think you should stay here.”

As peaceful as the morning started, the afternoon was filled with anger and yelling. It took Rayleigh telling her to sit down and shut up in that hard voice he used to use on his unruly crewmates before Rouge calmed down enough to listen.

“You’re tired, and you’re already weeks behind him.” Heaving a weary sigh, the old man sat down beside her and watched as she fought back furious tears. Softening his tone, he entreated her, “At least wait for a crew to cross over with. Take some time to rest and figure out your next steps. We’ll help you however we can, but we won’t let you kill yourself by acting reckless.”

Rouge knew he was right, but it didn’t stop her from burying her face in her hands, shoulders shaking as she finally broke under the stress in the wake of yet another barrier between her and her son.


	2. Chapter 2

A newspaper slid across the counter, and Rouge looked up at Shakky curiously until the barkeep nodded down at the front page.

“Thought you might be interested in what that boy of yours has gotten himself into.” Humming curiously, Rouge skimmed the paragraphs on the page it was folded open to and felt the blood drain from her face. She grabbed the paper with both hands and started pacing the currently empty bar. Over and over she read the story until she thought her eyes might pop out of her head.

“This is unbelievable,” she said to herself. “He could have gotten my penchant for thievery, but this?” Rouge waved the paper angrily at Rayleigh as if he were to blame before slapping it down onto the bar and snapping, “This has Roger written all over it!”

According to the paper, Fire Fist Ace was last seen challenging the Emperor Whitebeard and hasn’t been heard from since. There’d been no news on his crew, either, but they hadn’t been reported dead, and Rouge was hanging on to that thin thread of hope with all her might.

It’d been over half a year since Rouge first agreed to stay with Rayleigh and Shakky, having reluctantly agreed that she didn’t stand a chance getting through Fishman Island to the New World alone, especially on her glorified fishboat - but this news changed everything. One look at Rouge’s face and Rayleigh knew she couldn’t wait for her son to return to Paradise. He shared a significant glance with Shakky, and the information broker nodded and said she’d scope out what crews were on Sabaody and which ones had the best chance of surviving the dive down below.

Finding a strong pirate crew to travel with took several more weeks, and every second only served to further set Rouge on edge. Her temper grew shorter by the day, but she knew she had to trust Shakky’s judgement. To pass the days, Rouge continued to work in the bar, not that it ever got very busy with the “Rip-Off” in the name scaring most people away.

Four weeks, five days, and three hours after receiving the news, Rouge was cleaning dishes in the back when she heard the door open. Since Shakky was out handling some business and Rayleigh had disappeared, probably to do some gambling as he was wont to do, she was looking after the place, so she dried her hands and walked out into the front room.

Smiling lately had been difficult, and Rouge’s attempt came across more like an uncomfortable grimace.

She recognized the shock of red hair right before she was pulled against a solid chest. “I can’t believe it.” His arm squeezed tightly before finally releasing her, though he didn’t let her go far. Rouge’s brain stuttered to a halt trying to connect the grown man towering over her with the gangly teenager from her memory. “When the Vice-Captain called saying an old friend needed help, who’d have thought it’d be the old missus?”

“Watch that ‘old’ comment, sweet pea,” she teased, playfully pinching his side. “I can still put you over my knee.”

Shanks’ boyish grin was as wide as she remembered, but there was one major thing that was different. “Where’s his hat?” If possible, his grin grew even wider. She fetched him a drink and listened to his story about a little kid he met in the East Blue that dreamed about being King of the Pirates, a boy who Shanks gladly gave his arm to save. Rouge hoped she got to meet Luffy someday, especially if he was as much like Roger as Shanks said.

Apparently, when Shakky had been looking for a crew, she’d actually been killing time until they could reach the Red Hair Pirates, and Rayleigh hadn’t gone off to drink but to evaluate Shanks’ ship for the resin. In the days it took to coat it, Rouge was introduced to most of the Red Hair crew as they wandered in and out of the Rip-Off Bar and formed a quick friendship with Benn Beckman, the first mate. He reminded her a lot of Rayleigh except with a much drier sense of humor.

When it came time to leave, Rouge was sad to say goodbye. She hugged Shakky and Rayleigh tightly, promising to return when she had the chance. He handed her the torn-off corner of a piece of paper that had his name scrawled across it, and her heart ached when he admitted to already having her vivre card, the very one she had given to Roger back when she was still a pirate. She threw her arms around him one more time before allowing Beckman to guide her away to the Red Force.

The ship was a flurry of movement as the crew prepared to submerge at Shanks’ command. From her spot out of the way by the bulwark, Rouge watched in fascination as he flawlessly directed his crew. Over the years, she’d read about him and her little bluebell clown in the news and even had copies of their most recent bounty posters, but she still had trouble looking at the red haired Emperor and seeing anything but the bratty kid she had known.

Shanks joined her once the bubble inflated and the ship was sinking below the water’s surface. This would only be her second time making the journey, and it set her nerves on fire. So much banked on the luck of the draw, and however lucky Rouge was, her crew had still barely made it to Fishman Island. Sensing her apprehension as the sea around them grew darker, Shanks kept her distracted with exaggerated tales of his exploits, including one night on a winter island where he met a fire-wielding rookie named Ace.

Hearing his name made her jolt, and Rouge jumped at the chance to ask whatever she could. Unfortunately, the Red Hair Pirates only spent one night with her son’s crew and Shanks didn’t want to give too much away, but he did say that she’d be proud of the man he had become, if exasperated with the recklessness he’d gotten from his father. Her beaming smile refused to dissipate throughout the rest of the trip, no matter how dark or cold it got or what giant sea kings erred too close to the Red Force.

FIshman Island was as beautiful as she remembered, but she knew there wasn’t much time to enjoy the scenery. Within an hour of arriving, they were looking for a coating mechanic to prepare them for the return to the surface on the side of the New World. Even if Rouge felt she had the spare time to indulge in the undersea island, Shanks explained that it was a piece of Whitebeard’s territory, and, even if they were amicable, he didn’t want to overstay his welcome on another Emperor’s island. 

It only took a few days before they were setting sail again, time Rouge took to get her sword and daggers sharpened as well as replace some of her clothes and gear. Sailing back up was faster and relatively easier, though it was where Rouge realized that Shanks had been using his Conqueror’s Haki to keep the large predators away from the ship.

It was raining when they broke the surface and the bubble popped. They were still a couple of weeks away from where they planned to drop her off, so Shanks insisted she take his cabin until they arrived and refused to hear any arguments. In that relative comfort, time passed quickly, and her days with the Red Hair Pirates came to an end sooner than any of them were ready for. Days had been spent sharing stories about her own crew and the time she spent with Roger before Shanks had been taken on, and she still laughed at the joy and relief on Shanks’ face when she confirmed that, despite the age disparity, Ace was in fact Roger’s son.

As much as he’d like to, two Emperors getting together would garner too much attention from the World Government, so they couldn’t risk taking her directly to Whitebeard, but Beckman kept an eye on the News Coo and had a decent idea on where the Moby Dick was currently sailing. They dropped her off on a nearby island and helped her find a new boat before pushing her off in the right direction. No matter what she stole, it wouldn’t be able to keep up with the massive Whitebeard flag ship, so they had planned ahead for her to cut them off instead.

Her last night with the Red Hair Pirates had involved a party, since they weren’t the type for tearful goodbyes, and had ended with her being handed a number for a Den Den Mushi, a piece of Shanks’ vivre card, and a promise to be there if she ever needed their help. She gave a final farewell wave to the Red Force before turning her attention to her sails. If Whitebeard was as close as Beckman suspected, then it wouldn’t be long, and she was thankful that Shanks had been willing to sail as close as he did despite the potential risks.

Days went by, and Rouge spent more and more time staring at Ace’s picture. A small, scared part of her was scared that her son hadn’t survived his supposed attack on the Emperor, but she always tried to squash the paranoid thoughts by reminding herself that Whitebeard was a good man. Even if it was a little egotistical, she hoped that her name would’ve been enough for him to keep Ace alive, out of curiosity if nothing else.

Something moving within the heavy layer of fog pushed her to her feet one afternoon, and Rouge ran to the bow and tried to peer through the cover. She made out a whale-shaped figurehead that denoted a ship in Whitebeard’s main fleet and felt her chest tighten. Ready or not, she knew she would soon learn the truth about her son’s fate. She had to readjust her course but was moving alongside the Moby Dick within the hour, but it was quickly outpacing her. Glancing up, hoping that whoever was on lookout had caught sight of her as she sailed in, she let out a heavy breath when someone leaned over the side and looked down at her.

A line was thrown down, and Rouge tied it to her boat. Relief came quickly, now that she had finally succeeded in finding the Whitebeard Pirates, and she took the rope ladder falling down soon after as an invitation to climb up.

Heart pounding in her chest, she redid her ponytail and straightened her clothes. Her fingers brushed against the flower in her hair for luck and slung her small pack over her shoulder before grabbing the first rung of the ladder. It was a long climb, and she could feel the eyes from above bearing down on her.

A crowd had formed in the time it took her to reach the deck, all of them no doubt wondering about the lone woman traveling the New World. Rouge instinctively looked through the faces and tried not to notice the pit in her stomach when she didn’t see anyone with freckles and shaggy black hair. Distantly she heard the pirates questioning her and her reason for approaching the ship, but Rouge schooled her features and cooly ignored them in favor of seeking out their captain.

She weaved in between the crew, expertly dodging whenever one tried to stop her, until Whitebeard’s deep voice commanded they let her pass. Her memory hadn’t done him justice, as the man seemed even larger than she remembered, but her eyes passed over the fading color of his hair and the multiple IVs and tubes taped against his skin. It seemed age was catching up to him.

Approaching his seat, Rouge greeted him with a weary smile, “It’s been a long time, Newgate.” The weight of his gaze fell on her, and she could see the moment he recognized her. His eyes widened, and a hint of pride tugged at her lips at managing to shock Whitebeard speechless.

“Rouge,” he said as if he couldn’t believe she was standing in front of him. “I didn’t know you were still around.”

“I’m not. I’ve been living on my home island for awhile now but received some distressing news and decided to set sail again,” she admitted, narrowing her eyes when she heard the wariness in his tone. There was only one reason for him to be worried, and the thought had Rouge scowling. She stubbornly lifted her head. “I’ll only ask you this once, Newgate. What did you do to my son?”

The pirates scattered about the deck froze, abandoning the pretense that they weren’t eavesdropping, and watched in horror at the strange woman making demands of their captain. Even more surprising was that, aside from a minor twitch at her tone, Whitebeard let it slide.

“I assume you’re talking about Ace.” Her face softened from hearing his name until he continued, “He’s not here.”

She felt the color drain from her face, and a heavy weight dropped in her stomach that made her legs threaten to give out beneath her. Instead of giving in, Rouge clenched her hands into fists, fully prepared to fight if she didn’t like the answer to her next question.

“He’s fine, yoi,” a voice coming from her left interjected before she could demand to know where Ace was. Rouge turned to the voice and saw another familiar face coming towards her. Sporting the same spiked, blond locks and drooping eyes, she should’ve known the First Division Commander wouldn’t be far away. “Ace is on a mission right now, but he should be back within a week.”

“Hello, little chicklet.” The greeting was instinctive, but it got her the same angry scowl as it used to. Even though he was only a few years younger, Rouge had always enjoyed winding him up by treating him like he was a child in comparison. There was a moment of surrealism as her surroundings finally caught up to her before Marco’s words struck her. “Wait, mission?” Her brown eyes shot back up to Newgate. “Our son joined your crew?”

Oh, what would Roger say? He’d probably have a good laugh about it, actually.

Newgate nodded, but his expression became pensive. “I’m afraid there’s a very serious matter we must discuss.” Staring up at him curiously, Rouge nodded her head for him to continue. As long as her son was alive and well, she could handle anything else. “Can you explain why Ace believes you’re dead?”

The air rushed from her lungs and left her stunned. Dead? “Ace thinks I’m dead?” The idea that her son thought the same thing of her as she did him had honestly never occurred to her. It left her feeling hollow and grasping for the reason why he’d think that.

The answer was so obvious that Rouge pointed at a random crewmate and coldly demanded, “Bring me a Den Den Mushi.” When the pirate unsurely looked to his captain, Newgate was silent for a moment before granting permission to do as she said, his own curiosity brimming. While she waited, Rouge dug through her pack for one of the scraps of paper hidden deep within.

As old as it was, the number should still work, and if it didn’t, then she’d break into Marine HQ herself.

When the errand boy returned, Rouge accepted the snail. It was large, barely fitting in one hand, and she immediately dialed her call.

_ Purupurupuru. Purupurupuru. Purupurupu-catcha! _

_ “Garp here. What is it?” _ Anyone close enough to hear dropped their jaws at the name of the man who answered while everyone else focused on the woman trembling with rage.

“How dare you?” she growled.

There was a tense silence until a disbelieving,  _ “Rouge?” _ came through the line.

“How dare you?” she screamed again. “Where do you get off telling my son that he doesn’t have a mother? Or telling me that he died? Of all the sick and cruel-” the rest of her thought was abandoned when buried emotions choked her up. “Were you hoping that I’d never find out? Did you think I wouldn’t  _ recognize the name on his bounty poster _ ?”

_ “Rouge-” _ Lost in her tirade, Rouge refused to let him interrupt, furious tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

“Do I sound like I’m done?! I don’t know what you were hoping to accomplish, but it’s over. I’ve found him, and I am  _ never _ letting him go, do you understand me? And you’d better be careful, because the next time I see you, I will beat your ass. In fact, I just might stick with Whitebeard and turn pirate again, so come and get me, Garp. Screw you!”

Without letting him say a single word, Rouge hung up, gently in consideration of the Den Den Mushi that was still staring wide-eyed at her. The deck had fallen silent as they listened to her berate a Marine Vice-Admiral and then watched her hand the snail back to the man who had fetched it for her. She covered a hand over her eyes and took a shuddering breath that made her entire body tremble before forcing herself to relax. As calm as she suddenly seemed, the tense set of her shoulders didn’t go away.

Feeling emotionally exhausted after the call, Rouge slung her bag over her shoulder and asked Newgate, “So where will I be staying while I wait?”

It was kind of them not to draw attention to the thin veil she was keeping herself together with by insisting she stay for more questions. Marco stepped up and suggested to Newgate, “We can put her in the room for the Second Division Commander, yoi.” After getting approval, he led her below deck, and Rouge did her best to remember the turns they made until they stopped.

The room was bare of anything but a bed in the corner and a dresser alongside the wall. Marco explained that since they didn’t currently have a commander for the Second Division, the room had been empty, so she didn’t need to worry about putting someone out. There were designated showers for the nurses that she’d be allowed to use, and he went over the meal schedule. Rouge denied a tour of the ship in favor of getting rest. On his way out, Marco expressed that it was good to see her alive and well, to which she thinly smiled in return, reminded about what her son thought had become of her.

Most of the week was spent conversing with Newgate, though she also became acquainted with many of the Division Commanders as well. She could remember a few of them from the golden days, but there were plenty of new faces to learn. As curious as everyone was about the woman claiming to be their newest brother’s mother, word had quickly spread about her screaming at Garp the Fist, which seemed to make most of the crewmen too intimidated to approach her. It didn’t help that she was walking around with the same air as a ticking time bomb. There was nothing more Rouge could do in her search for Ace except wait, and anyone could see how much it rankled at her. 

Rouge was in the galley chatting with Haruta, Commander of the Twelfth Division, when it happened. They were discussing stealth and thieving techniques when someone above shouted, “They’re back!” She was already on her feet and running by her next breath. A small crowd had gathered by the port side on the main deck to welcome back their brothers.

Seeing him was like getting punched in the gut. She saw the bright orange hat first, then she saw a wide grin. He was too far away to notice at first, but as he looked in her direction and started walking towards her, the smattering of freckles became visible. Curses, Roger was right. Rouge wanted to count every single one.

Her lips parted. Now that the moment had come, Rouge had no idea what to say, how to go about explaining everything, and hoped that if she could start, then the words would find themselves, but as she took a few steps forward to meet him, he passed by her without a second glance.

The lack of reaction froze her to her core. It was a struggle to force herself to turn around where she saw him happily greet Marco, laughing as the Phoenix dropped an affectionate hand on top of his hat. Controlling her breath, Rouge remembered that if Newgate had been honest, then Ace didn’t know she was alive. Did he even know what she looked like? A strangely harrowing thought considering she’d spent most of the past year staring at his picture every night.

Marco tilted his head in her direction, and when Ace turned, her breath hitched the moment their matching brown eyes met. They walked over, and the anticipation made her tremble. No one spoke for a moment, and Rouge took the opportunity to look at her son. His bounty poster didn’t do him justice. Freckles stood out against golden skin, and this close she could see that they didn’t stop at his cheeks, either, and dotted across his shoulders. The most surprising thing was how short he was, only an inch or so taller than herself. Rouge thought for sure he’d take more after his father and at least break seven feet. Despite the respectful distance they stood apart, she could feel the heat radiating from Ace, no doubt due to the fire logia Devil Fruit she’d heard about. Rouge still couldn’t believe her own son was fool enough to eat one of those cursed fruits.

The first one to speak was her son. “I hear you’re a friend of Pops. My name’s Ace. Pleased to meet you.” He offered her a short but polite bow.

The first words she’d ever heard him say, and it was impossible to tell what hurt the most. 

Referring to Newgate as Pops was commonplace for the Whitebeard Pirates, and she wouldn’t have felt so offended if not for the fact that Ace clearly had no clue who she was. Seeing Roger’s grin shining back at her caused a physical ache, and she had to rest a hand over her heart to keep it from beating out of her chest.

“Hello, Ace. It’s very nice to meet you.” Her throat was tight, voice a quiet rasp against the emotions threatening to choke her. She knew he was confused by the tears pooling in her eyes and already felt sick from trying to find the words she had to say next.

_ I’m your mother. _

“My name is Portgas D. Rouge.”

_ Please know who I am. _

The moment she uttered her name, she saw recognition flash across his widening eyes and heard the sharp inhale of his breath. It was a minor comfort that Ace seemed to struggle for words as much as she did, but the longer he went without responding, the more uncomfortable Rouge felt.

Marco had been standing by passively but put a hand on Ace’s shoulder, shocking the teen out of his stupor. He blinked rapidly before looking at Rouge again with clearer eyes. 

Taking a deep inhale through her nose, Rouge decided to take the first step and approached her son. She slowly raised her hand to his cheek, but the moment she grazed him, he flinched away. Matching pairs of brown eyes locked onto each other. There was no doubt that the pain of rejection shined in hers, but her heart broke when she saw what was hiding in his.

Something she’d never expected in all her imaginations of this moment.

Pure terror stared back at her. Before she could even open her mouth, he turned and ran, leaving Rouge to stare blankly at the empty space where he once stood. No one stopped Ace as he pushed his way below deck, and no one attempted to comfort the woman who remained frozen where her son had fled from her. Marco did offer an apologetic look before following after Ace.

For an hour, Rouge didn’t move. She didn’t cry. She just stood by the edge of the ship and watched the ocean.

And there she remained for the next hour.

And the one after that.

And every hour after that until the sun dipped beneath the horizon, dousing her in orange light. Each offering of food brought to her was met with a polite shake of her head, the suggestions of sleep with a quiet, but firm, “Not yet.”

The emotional turmoil of the day left her feeling numb, but it was that numbness that would allow her to remain rooted in that spot throughout the night and the next day if she must. She would wait for every second of every hour of every day until he was ready. As a woman who kept her baby hidden and safe in her belly for twenty months, she was prepared to endure anything.

Dawn was beautiful and warm. It washed over her skin, and with it came the sounds of an awakening crew. Before long, one of the chefs tried to tempt her with breakfast but received the same polite denial despite the growing ache in her stomach. She didn’t know why, but Ace was in pain, and she would share it however she could.

Even Newgate sat silently watching her vigil. Rouge encapsulated the stubbornness of ‘D’, and he knew that nothing he or anyone else said would keep her from her path.

Rouge watched the sun begin its descent. Dinner would be starting soon, and she heard the footsteps of whatever chef approached her hoping to persuade her into breaking her self imposed fast. Though she had every intention of declining, she appreciated the gesture.

“Mom.” Rouge sucked in a sudden breath and turned around just in time for strong arms to wrap around her shoulders and hold her tight. A wet cheek pressed against hers, and she could feel him shaking. One of her hands rested in the middle of his back while the other cradled the back of his head. Even as their tears mixed together, she couldn’t stop smiling. Her son was finally back in her arms.

“Oh, Ace,” she breathed, clutching him even closer when his breath hitched. She kissed his tear streaked cheek. “My Ace, my sweet boy.” 


	3. Chapter 3

Watching Ace eat was so fascinating that Rouge nearly forgot about the delicious meal in front of her. With her hunger from the past day satiated, she smiled and observed her son. Once food was in front of him, everything else seemed to fade away, and Rouge didn’t think she’d ever seen someone gorge so much so quickly that they even ate the bones.

She chuckled affectionately when she saw flecks of food around Ace’s mouth. Part of her wanted to reach over and wipe it away, but survival instinct said to keep her fingers far away from her son’s indiscriminate eating. In between bites, he told her all about his life on the ship. For the mother and son’s first conversation, it was a simple topic, but getting to remind Ace to swallow before he spoke indulged her untouched maternal urges.

“What a sight for sore eyes.” Both Portgases paused and turned to look at the newcomer, a man in a white chef uniform and large brunette pompadour. He grabbed Rouge’s free hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “My dear, you are as beautiful as I remember.” Ace choked on the drumstick in his mouth and stared in horror as his friend flirted with his mom.

Rouge laughed and half-heartedly rolled her eyes. “You haven’t changed a bit, Thatch.”

“Implying the need?” The chef dropped onto the bench across from her and threw an arm around Ace’s shoulders. “Sorry I didn’t get the chance to say hello this week, but I couldn’t believe when I found out that my new brother’s cute little face was thanks to you.” The teasing pinch to Ace’s freckled cheek was met with a disapproving glare. Ace put a hand on Thatch’s face and shoved the laughing crewmate away.

Choosing to ignore his best friend, Ace looked at his mom and asked in confusion, “So you guys know each other?”

Eating the last bite of rice on her plate, Rouge nodded and explained, “I ran into the Whitebeard Pirates on occasion back in my pirating days.” She gestured at Thatch with her fork. “He didn’t have that goatee back then.” Thatch stroked his facial hair in mock offense, both unaware of Ace’s rising tension.

Hand slammed down onto the table as Ace shot to his feet. “You were a pirate?” he exclaimed. Taken aback, Rouge blinked.

“Of course,” she said slowly. She folded her arms on the table and peered thoughtfully at her son. “You really didn’t know? What on earth has Garp been telling you all these ye-” Rouge stopped abruptly, anger starting to simmer. Very seriously, she stared into his eyes and asked, “Ace, you do know who your father is, right?”

By his clenched jaw and white knuckled fists, Rouge honestly thought that if she had been anyone else, she would have gotten an up close demonstration on why he was called Fire Fist. Instead, Ace side-eyed Thatch, who was looking on in mild confusion, and dropped back into his seat and hissed a disgusted, “Yes.”

Certainly not the reaction she had been expecting.

“I can’t believe Garp told you about him but didn’t mention me,” she pouted while Ace fumed. “Even though most people didn’t know me as Portgas, he still should’ve known who I was.”

Thatch looked between the two and noticed both of their rising tempers for entirely different reasons, so he quickly interjected, trying to bring them back to safer ground. “You’d have been proud, Ace. Your mom was one of the best thieves in the Grand Line.”

With his thoughts diverted, Ace glanced at Thatch and then at Rouge. “Really?”

Though thankful to Thatch for his interruption, Rouge’s cheeks turned the faintest pink from the wide eyed awe in Ace’s expression. “Well, I did have a certain talent for it,” she admitted with exaggerated humility, tossing onto the table a few berries she’d nicked from Thatch when he’d first joined them, much to Ace’s amusement and Thatch’s chagrin once he patted his empty pockets. He snatched up the money and gave her a warning stare to which she innocently smiled.

“You would have been a menace if you had kept sailing,” he grumbled.

“Was I not already?” she teasingly shot back.

“Wait,” interrupted Ace, “why’d you stop pirating?” He sounded surprised, as if he couldn’t imagine giving up piracy. He was still young enough that he may not have even realized that pirates didn’t always keep going until they die.

Rouge brushed her bangs away from her face and sighed softly. Smiling sadly, she said, “Not all crews make it in the New World. Your father had my vivre card and found me adrift on a plank of my ship’s hull.” Her eyes dropped to the table. “I didn’t have it in me to start a new crew, so he gave me a ride back to the South Blue where I’ve lived ever since.”

Sensing the spiraling mood, Thatch quickly stepped in once again and clapped a hand on Ace’s shoulder. “Why don’t you two join us for some cards tonight? There are some junior crewmates I think could use a healthy dose of humility.” The idea sounded fun, and Rouge admittedly wanted the chance to show off to Ace. They both agreed and planned to meet up with the others on the main deck later that evening.

Deciding to have a little extra fun, Rouge went by her room and changed into one of the long sleeved dresses she’d bought on Fishman Island. Pale blue like a robin’s egg and flowy around her knees, she also let her wavy, strawberry locks tumble freely down her back. When it was time to go back up, her smile was gently disarming and perfect for playing one of her favorite cons.

There were several games being played, and she walked straight over to where she saw Thatch and Ace surrounded by men who couldn’t have been that much older than her son. She glided over and inwardly smirked at the heads turning her way. Thatch gave her a knowing grin while Ace’s eyes lit up before he glared at some of his comrades that he felt were looking a little too long at his mom.

“Do you mind if I join you?” she asked politely, smoothing out her skirt to sit when they made room for her. They dealt her in to the next game and, after glancing at her cards, she put a hand to her cheek and slyly said, “It’s been awhile, so I hope you boys will take it easy on me.”

It only took a few hands before everyone realized that not only was Rouge no amateur, but she was swiftly cleaning out their pockets of every beri they had. By the time any of them realized she knew exactly what she was doing, she’d already figured out their tells and was taking full advantage. When it was her turn to shuffle, she pulled out all the tricks that made for impressive showmanship and provided adequate distraction while she stacked the deck.

She could feel Ace observing her and briefly met his eyes. Instead of looking impressed, like she’d selfishly hoped, he seemed more thoughtful, as if he was unsure of something. Reminding herself to inquire about it later, she turned her attention back to the group who were less than pleased with her winning streak.

“I wasn’t called Blackjack for nothing,” she remarked, sounding more smug than intended, and started dealing out the cards. Thatch had wisely stopped playing shortly after she joined and chosen to watch, and while part of her felt guilty for cheating money out of her own son, she couldn’t help but think he deserved it for having such an easy to read face.

Just like Roger. The thought had her snickering. “Sorry,” she said when they looked at her in confusion, “it’s just that your father couldn’t bluff either.”

As amused as she was, Ace turned red and couldn’t stop himself from snapping, “He is not my father!” Rouge flinched back as if physically struck. Shocked speechless, she stared and watched his thoughts play out across his face. His body was visibly trembling, and he was biting his bottom lip, but regret was in his eyes. Perhaps not for his words but at least for the hurt Rouge couldn’t hide.

In light of Ace’s unusually violent reaction, she knew it probably wasn’t appropriate, but with the memory dancing in the forefront of her mind, Rouge still found herself quietly confessing, “This is how we met each other.” The story fell from her lips without prompting, and Thatch dropped a hand on Ace’s shoulder to help ground him and keep him seated. She told them about the island in Paradise she’d been stuck on while the Log Pose set and the pub she went to every night to play poker. How the regulars eventually refused to play against her until a pirate captain fresh off the boat walked in. “We played a few hands, and he would always say that that’s when I won his heart.” Rouge spared a sad look at Ace’s derisive snort. “Of course, his Vice-Captain would tell you that I robbed him blind and left him with nothing but the shirt on his back and my drinking tab.”

A few of the men laughed, and Rouge blinked away unshed tears at the fond memory. Having heard enough, Ace stood and forced out a polite good night through gritted teeth before quickly walking away. Rouge shot to her feet to follow only for Thatch to hold an arm out in front of her. 

“Best to just let him cool down,” he told her then tried to lighten the mood by adding, “He certainly got your temper.”

Rouge pursed her lips petulantly and glared at him. “And just what is that supposed to mean?” He threw up his hands in self defense and laughed.

“He’ll be fine by tomorrow, so why don’t you go ahead and get some sleep.” Every part of her wanted to run after her son, but Rouge knew she had to trust Thatch’s judgement. After all, he knew Ace better than she did. Shoving that bitter thought as far back into her mind as she could, she reluctantly agreed. Before heading to her room, Rouge pulled the heart and spade aces from her dress sleeve and handed them to Thatch. Feeling his jokingly unamused stare on her back, she heard him call after her, “Menace.”

Worrying about Ace left Rouge lying awake long into the night, and whatever sleep she did manage was fitful. By the time she sensed the approaching dawn and crawled out from her bed, it felt as though she hadn’t slept at all. The consistent sleep schedule she’d had since reaching the Moby must’ve been spoiling her if one bad night was all it took to leave her body heavy and mind fuzzy.

Fighting the desire to fall back into the warm sheets, Rouge pulled on a pair of trousers and a billowy white blouse. She tied her hair up and placed Roger’s flower where it belonged before trudging up to the main deck. The sky was still plenty dark, and she passingly waved up at whoever was up in the crowsnest taking the last shift of the night watch.

Her internal clock was spot on as usual. Light started to fill the sky just as she leaned against the bulwark. Feeling the warm sun on her face, Rouge breathed deep, absorbing all the strength and energy she could from the sunrise.

“What do I do?” she asked it, gazing into the soft blues that painted the sky, and was surprised to hear someone respond.

“Better be careful, yoi. Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness.”

“Is that your professional opinion?” She glanced over at the doctor with an amused smile, receiving one in return. “Your concern is noted, little chicklet.”

Marco leaned backwards with his elbows on the bulwark. They stood in companionable silence until he admitted, “I heard about what happened with Ace last night.” She remained quiet, so he pushed on. “His birth father is a really sensitive subject for Ace. Be careful bringing it up, yoi.” Even in the apparent solitude that surrounded them, they both knew better than to say Roger’s name out loud.

First Thatch and now Marco. Rouge frowned. She was getting very tired of other people telling her how to care for her own child.

The cool sea breeze whispered between them in place of a response. They stood gazing out at the sea until the sun rose high enough that the day had to start, and Rouge decided to listen to the slowly building ache of hunger in her stomach.

She didn’t see Ace at breakfast. After putting her dishes away, she reached out with haki to find him and managed to catch him outside a supply room below deck. Before she could even open her mouth, he blurted out something about having chores to do and darted past her. Rouge quietly watched him go, knowing full well that his captain planned to clear Ace of his duties so that the mother and son could have a day or two together.

To keep her mind off of her son’s obvious avoidance of her, Rouge spent the day with Newgate. Drinking tea with the aging pirate was a calming experience. Rouge sat near his feet and eyed his cup of sake that was very much not nurse approved with a barely suppressed smile. Up above, she saw Ace sitting on the top yard of one of the masts, grinning at one of his friends, until his body suddenly went slack. Rouge shouted and jumped to her feet, spilling her tea. By some miracle he didn’t fall, and no one else reacted beyond Marco sighing and flying up to bring him down.

Seeing the alarm on Rouge’s face, Marco carried Ace over to her and briefly explained the boy’s occasional narcolepsy attacks. Rouge sat back down and told the first mate to lay down her son so his head could rest on her lap. Her fingers carded gently through his dark hair - stiff from the salty air but one good wash and she knew it’d be as soft as hers. The smile she gave him was thoughtful but it also didn’t quite reach her eyes.

 _I guess there are still many things I have to learn about you, my sweet boy,_ she mused. A loud snore drew her attention, and she couldn’t help a small laugh as she remembered being in a very similar position with Roger, and a sudden thought occurred to her.

“I have a question, Newgate,” she said, continuing when he acknowledged her with a hum. “Obviously everyone knows I’m his mother, but what about the older crewmembers who met his father? Who knew about our relationship?”

“Because of Ace’s age, they seem to assume you had him with someone else.”

Rouge scoffed. “I suppose I should be grateful, but honestly. As if I’d ever be with anyone except my husband.” Her dry tone earned a hearty laugh from Newgate.

“Your what?” a tired voice asked. Looking down at her son and watching consciousness clear his eyes, Rouge quietly laughed and fondly stroked her thumb against his forehead.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” she teased before Ace shot up, his features tightening.

“Did you say husband?” he demanded, earning a frown from his mother. “You were married? To _him_?!”

Her left brow arched in a manner that was frighteningly reminiscent of her son and dryly responded, “That is what people in love tend to do. Newgate made a wonderful officiant.”

Ace whipped his head towards his captain with a look of utter betrayal. “ _What?_ ”

Even Whitebeard had the decency to appear mildly abashed for having chosen to never mention his contribution to Roger and Rouge’s relationship.

Choosing to take Ace’s reaction more as a curious surprise than the pained shock she knew in her heart it was, she pasted on a smile and explained, “It was shortly after they saved me in the New World before I went back to the South Blue. We were both captains and thought it’d be in poor taste to officiate our own wedding, so we compromised and asked Newgate to do it.”

With no words to speak of, certainly none that he wanted to scream at his mother and captain, Ace ran. Rouge kept hoping that hearing stories of her and Roger and the love they shared would help this odd hatred their child obviously had for his father, but instead she was seeing him run away from her for the third time.

It pained her. She jumped to her feet but was stopped by Newgate’s warning tone, “Rouge, let him go.”

She snapped. Rouge bared her teeth and glared at her old friend, hissing, “He is _my_ son!” before running after Ace. She caught up to him below deck and used a haki coated hand to drag him into a supply closet full of food crates. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw the black hand circling his wrist before it pulled away.

Waiting for her to speak, Ace rubbed the back of his neck and, when she remained quiet, turned to look at her. Rouge stood with her arms crossed, and the expression in her eyes made him fidget like a child being scolded for stealing sweets.

“Ace.” He winced petulantly at her stern tone. “You can’t keep running away like a child everytime I mention him.”

“I’m not running away,” Ace argued and, seeing her skeptical stare, bit out, “Why do you have to keep talking about him?”

“Honestly? Because I thought you’d like to learn more about your father,” she fought to keep her voice calm even as the temperature in the room started to rise.

“Well you can cut it out. I’m not interested.”

Their voices grew louder.

“You really hate him that much?”

Harder.

“Yes! I can’t stand hearing about it!”

Sharper.

“Why is it so wrong that I should care for him?”

Until he exploded.

“Because you should hate us!” Ace shouted, clenching his fists until they turned white.

“I-” Rouge jerked as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped on her, instantly extinguishing her temper. All she could do was gasp out a bewildered, “ _What?!_ ”

“Because I…” Ace tugged at his hair in frustration and helplessly blurted out, “You were dead, and it was my fault! And everytime you go on about loving _him_ despite everything makes me think...makes me hope that-”

“Ace, what are you talking about?” she pleaded, throat going tight as she watched her son’s eyes flicker around the room, his face looking heartbreakingly lost as he sought a foothold after saying more than he intended. Without hesitation, Rouge threw her arms around his neck and made soft shushing sounds.

After a moment, his hands rose to grip the back of her shirt, and he pulled her even closer. “I thought,” his words were muffled and broken against her shoulder, “.....you were dead…....I thought if…..that if it wasn’t for me….then you….then you’d have...”

“It’s okay,” she whispered when he didn’t continue, stroking his hair calmingly. “Is this why you ran off when you found out who I was?” He didn’t answer which was as good an answer as any, and Rouge’s eyes burned. “Oh, Ace. Nothing that happened would have been your fault.”

“But—”

“No,” she said sternly, leaning back and cradling his face gently in her hands so he could see the seriousness in her eyes. “It was my choice to take that risk. I wanted you to live more than anything else, and I’d sacrifice myself a hundred times over if it meant you survived.”

“How can you say that?” he choked out.

“Because I love you.” Emotion bled into her words, and tears blurred her vision. “I love you so much, and I am so happy that you’re alive.” It was difficult to remember that she spent so many years thinking him dead when she had him wrapped in her arms. She squeezed him tightly, as if it could erase that wasted time.

Several minutes passed before Ace started to pull back, and Rouge allowed her arms to fall away and let him go. He cleared his throat and made up an excuse to leave. Instead of feeling bothered, Rouge huffed a small laugh. Roger had been so open about his feelings that she had no idea where Ace could have gotten this emotional bashfulness from. Shaking her head in amusement, she returned to tea with Newgate.

Despite their emotional heart-to-heart, or maybe because of it, Ace seemed to be going out of his way to avoid her again and refused to even make eye contact with her. The closest she got to capturing his attention was after dinner when she did a little swordplay with Vista. Her skills were more than a little rusty, but it was admittedly nice to focus on something other than the complexities of her strained relationship with her long lost son. 

Between the clanging of blades, Rouge mused. Ace was the sort to wear his heart on his sleeve wholly and unapologetically, but he was acting like he was embarrassed by their earlier encounter in the store room. A silly reason to avoid his mother in her opinion. The frustrated realization that she couldn’t think of another possibility strengthened her next blow and forced Vista to take a step back.

From the corner of her eye, Rouge saw a splash of orange, and that second of distraction when her eyes darted over to it was all Vista needed to send her tumbling down to the deck. Her back landed with a loud thud that sounded worse than it was, and her rapier clattered a couple feet away. Taking a moment sprawled on the sun-warmed wood to collect her breath, she smiled tiredly up at the dual wielding swordsman.

“Well if I didn’t feel my age before, I certainly do now,” Rouge joked between breaths. Vista sheathed his sabers, reached out a hand and easily lifted her to her feet. Stretching resulted in several bones popping in her arms and back and fanned the flames of aching muscles.

“You may feel it, but you certainly don’t look it, my dear,” he assured. Another crewmate presented her with her sword and blushed shyly when she thanked him. The spar had been exactly what she needed, and she couldn’t help but heave a happy sigh at her tired limbs. It was a shame she never got to meet Vista before retiring, as a sword fight with him in her prime would certainly have been an exceptional show.

A few others approached to congratulate her, but her eyes immediately went searching for her son only for him to have disappeared. She stayed around to chat just long enough to be considered polite before escaping below deck. Using Observation Haki to lead the way, Rouge followed Ace’s presence like a beacon to the First Division’s area of the ship. She was confused, knowing he was a member of the Second, until she stopped in front of the door of the First Division Commander’s room and sensed Ace inside with Marco.

She raised a hand to knock but froze when she heard Marco speak.

“I thought you’d be happy, yoi.” He sounded confused, and Rouge couldn’t help her desire to eavesdrop. She slowly lowered her hand and inched closer to the door, curious to know what they were talking about.

“I am! I mean…” Ace cut himself off with what she thought was a sigh. Separated by the wood, she could imagine him rubbing the back of his neck. Rouge smiled fondly - it was a cute quirk of Roger’s when he was thinking - but focused when Ace finally continued. “I’ve always wanted to meet her, it’s just...she’s nothing like I expected.”

Rouge’s heart panged, fingers curling in the fabric of her shirt. She turned around to quietly lean back against the wall where she could still hear them speak. Painfully swallowing the lump in her throat, she struggled to ignore the choking feeling leaving her short of breath.

“Is that such a bad thing, yoi?”

“I...yes? _No,_ I just...I don’t know!” Ace snapped, voice thick with emotion, before quietly admitting, “I don’t know what to do.”

Guilt thundered in Rouge’s chest as she squeezed her eyes shut.

She didn’t catch what Marco said next, but it drew her attention back to the conversation instead of the blood pounding in her ears.

“It’s not that I don’t like her or think she’s amazing, but—”

“But a pirate in love with Roger isn’t the woman you’ve been imagining all your life.”

The tears refused to be held back. Rouge bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself silent and ran from Marco’s door. She dashed to her room with only a single detour, using her haki to avoid as many people as possible. 

When the door to the room she'd been occupying closed, with a click of the lock for extra measure, Rouge kicked off her shoes and set the Den Den Mushi she took on the bed. She sat cross legged on the covers and nimbly undid her braid to let her hair hang loosely like a curtain around her face.

She breathed deep and dialed.

_Purupurupuru. Purupurupuru._

Her middle finger restlessly tapped against her knee.

_Purupurupuru. Purupurupuru._

A high pitched whine escaped her when it kept ringing, and she silently begged for him to answer.

_Purupurupuru. Purupurupuru._

Maybe she should just hang up—

_Purupurupu-catcha!_

_“This is Garp.”_ Hearing his voice caused a jolt in her heart. She couldn’t answer except for a choked out sob, and he growled an impatient, _“Who is this?”_

It was all too much, and Rouge’s body trembled. Her voice was weak when she said, “Garp.”

Silence. A heavy sigh. _“Are you calling to yell at me again?”_

Quiet as a whisper, she replied, “No.” Rouge took a moment to gather her thoughts and was grateful that Garp calmly waited without speaking. She licked her dry lips and finally asked the question burning a hole in her heart, “Why did you take my son away from me?”

 _“Rouge,”_ Garp started before pausing and seeming to rethink what he was going to say. _“You know you were too weak to travel.”_

“But you were supposed to come back for me!” Her voice cracked. A hand covered her watery eyes even though she knew no one could see her.

 _“I know.”_ Had Garp always sounded so tired? _“By the time I arrived on Baterilla, the island had already been cleared, and I feared returning would endanger both you and the people that had already suffered far too much.”_

“You told me he was dead.”

_“Because you were safe, and if you knew Ace was out there, nothing would have stopped you from tearing apart the seas to get to him.”_

“It would’ve been my right,” Rouge hissed.

 _“Roger asked me to keep you both safe,”_ Garp barked, _“so that’s what I did.”_

His words shot through her heart like a bullet and left her bleeding. It would be so easy to blame everything on Garp, and even on Roger. Anger bubbled up inside her towards her husband for having chosen the Marine instead of Rayleigh.

“I lost my chance to be a mother because of all this.” Even as she said it, cold dread washed over, dulling the fire inside her. All of the women on Baterilla had lost their chances, but that wasn’t Garp’s fault. Maybe things would have been better if Rayleigh had found them or maybe not, but Rouge couldn’t argue with the fact that she and Ace were both still healthy and alive.

_“That kid loves you more than you seem to realize. Insisted on taking your name.”_

“I’m not who he’s been waiting for.”

_“Rouge...I’m sorry for how things turned out.”_

She sniffled and nodded her head even though she knew he couldn’t see it. “Tell me what he was like growing up,” she said abruptly, desperate to think of anything else. “Has he always been so polite?”

_“Hell no. He’s yours and Roger’s brat through and through.”_

Rouge laughed through her tears as Garp weaved a tale of her son’s childhood, of a fierce and protective boy who loved his sworn brothers with everything he had. They laughed about three boys fighting with pipes to become the scourge of their island, and Rouge mourned for her son and the brother he’d lost. There was no stopping Garp once he got going, so she curled up under the covers and set the speaker on the pillow by her head.

As she listened to Garp reminisce about his grandkids, she thought she sensed someone outside her door, but her eyes slid shut and sleep took her.

The Den Den Mushi was quietly snoring when Rouge woke up.

She rolled onto her back and stared blankly up at the ceiling. A part of her wanted to lie there in the darkness and wait until everything made sense, but she knew that wouldn’t help. Instead she took a deep breath, then another, and then she slowly sat up.

Her chest felt empty. Not bad, just...devoid of the light that usually motivated her to get up every morning.

Consciously aware of every movement she made, Rouge slid off the bed and got dressed, choosing loose breeches and a billowy blouse. Tugging on her boots, she made sure to take the Den Den Mushi back to where she’d found it before stepping out onto the deck.

Light shined bright and warm against her face. She walked to one side of the ship and shielded her eyes to look up at the high position of the sun. The neutral emptiness inside her turned sour.

For the first time in over twenty years, Rouge had missed the sunrise.

Tears came unbidden to her eyes.

“My fair lady, how rare for you to bloom so late in the morni— Rouge?” An arm circled her shaking shoulders and anchored her to Thatch. She was barely aware as he carefully but quickly ushered her inside the galley. It was empty this long after breakfast, and he led her to a corner that was out of direct sight from the entrance and would offer the most privacy.

The cook left her alone for a few minutes in order to make her something to eat and returned with a plate of eggs and toast that he set down in front of her. Simple but quick to prepare, and Rouge gratefully lifted one of the pieces of toast and nibbled on the corner. She’d managed to compose herself while he was gone, but he could see the shine of drying tear streaks on her flushed cheeks.

“Anything you want to talk about?” Thatch probed, dropping into the seat next to her.

The question restarted the tsunami of emotions within her. Rouge hated the tremble of her lips when she croaked out a pained, “I miss Roger,” before shattering back into sobs. Her hands covered her face as she began to ramble. “We always talk at sunrise, but I wasn’t there. He must’ve been so worried. Now I’m an utter wreck, and I really could’ve used his advice today.”

Thatch was one of the few who remembered her marriage to the Pirate King, and feeling a sympathetic pang in his chest for the woman, he sidled closer, pulling away one of her hands and holding it between his own.

“Maybe I can help, and if not, you can tell Roger all about it tomorrow morning.”

Seeing his earnest expression, Rouge nodded. She reached out with her Observation Haki to make sure there were no opportunistic eavesdroppers, and relaxed slightly when she felt no one.

“Well,” she started hesitantly, “I heard Ace with Marco in his room last night.”

Thatch’s sudden chuckle drew her to a stop. “Yeah, he spends a lot of nights with Marco. They can get kind of loud, but I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

Confusion swept over Rouge, and the hand still on her face slid through her hair, pushing it back so she could peer curiously at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Well you said you heard them,” he said suddenly unsure.

“Yes. Heard them talking.” Rouge narrowed her eyes, feeling that there was a very large elephant in the room she couldn’t see. “What did you think I meant?”

His face turned deathly pale. He dropped her hand and shot to his feet, giving a weak excuse that he was needed on deck. Thatch didn’t make it a single step before Rouge snapped her fingers and pointed at his seat with a stern, “Sit,” that left no room for refusal. Her demand for an explanation was silent but clear.

Thatch seemed to flounder for an answer but ended up divulging the whole truth about the relationship between her son and the First Division Commander.

Rouge was silent.

“The little chicklet is dating my son?” She slowly pushed her plate away and stood. Resting a hand on Thatch’s shoulder on her way past, Rouge left the galley. She walked with purpose, a dominating air about her that kept others from interrupting her all the way outside where she scanned the deck. Her eyes narrowed, and she strode across the wood when she found her target.

Marco was in the middle of a discussion with Namur but looked her way in curiosity as she approached.

“Good morning, Rou—”

The speed with which she moved startled the First Commander. Even with his Observation tingling in the back of his mind, that element of surprise gave an imperative edge. Her kick landed with a flash of cerulean fire. Everyone stopped and stared when they saw Marco forced back and no one seemed sure how to respond when Rouge was the one attacking. He immediately crossed his arms to block her next strike, grunting from the force of the Armament Haki she used to strengthen the blow.

“What the hell are you doing, yoi?” he snapped before she grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward to slam a black knee into his side. Taking the hit, Marco twisted his arm out of her grip and shoved her away to force some distance between them. He didn’t want to hurt her, and it left him at a major disadvantage. One she was entirely willing to take advantage of.

“I’m here two weeks, and no one saw fit to tell me about you and my son?” she hissed, rushing forward. Even with his attention fully on her, Marco had trouble evading her speed. They danced across the deck as he constantly moved away from her advances, dodging her jabs and kicks, sometimes only by a hair.

Rouge’s foot hooked his knee and forced it to bend. Off balance, he couldn’t stop her from wrapping a haki coated hand around his neck to force him down onto his back. She straddled his stomach and tightened her black fingers around his throat, but there was no force behind it. Her entire body was trembling.

Tears fell onto Marco’s face, and as he stared up at her in bewilderment, understanding bloomed.

She didn’t look angry.

She looked heartbroken.

“It’s not fair,” she angrily cried. “It’s not fair!” The hand that didn’t circle his throat covered her eyes.

He realized that she ultimately didn’t care if he was dating Ace, but it gave her something she could fight against. Meeting her son for the first time after he was already grown alone would stress out anyone, and Marco knew that it hadn’t been an easy situation for either of them. To be honest, Marco thought Rouge had handled everything fairly gracefully and felt a little guilty that he didn’t realize how hard it’d been for her before it came to this. None of her problems had simple solutions, and it must have left her feeling completely helpless. It wasn’t as though she could turn back the clock, but choosing to disapprove of her child’s lover provided a physical target to unleash all of her pent up emotions on.

And if that’s what Rouge needed...

Marco sweeped a leg up and caught it against her side, sending her flying off of him and skidding against the wood of the deck. They jumped to their feet at the same moment, and he gave her a nod and gestured with his fingers for her to keep coming at him. Gratitude flashed in her eyes.

They fought until both of their breaths ran ragged. Without the use of Marco’s Devil Fruit, most of the spectators grew bored and were already resuming their normal duties, but there were still a handful there to pass around slips of berries when Rouge finally collapsed to the deck.

Soaked in sweat and covered in rapidly appearing bruises, her body felt like a lead weight, but her mind was lighter than it’d been in days. It flowed with a peaceful clarity that let her truly understand how tightly she’d been wound. After all the exertion, the warm wood was uncomfortable against her back, but there was no chance of moving. Marco dropped down next to her and crossed his legs.

Through heaving breaths, Rouge lightly commented, “You’re too old for him.”

“Right, yoi,” he scoffed, “and how old was Roger again?” The rhetorical question drew a breathy laugh from her, and she gave him a tired smile.

“I withdraw my argument.” They both chuckled lightly, and he teasingly nudged her shoulder with his foot.

Growing more serious, Marco asked, “How are you doing with everything? Really.”

Rouge closed her eyes against the bright sun and sighed. “I love him, and I can tell he’s grown into a wonderful young man.” She paused, musing over her thoughts before putting them into words. “But I think part of me hoped he’d still be that tiny baby I held in my arms.”

Marco hummed, then fell silent for a moment before saying, “For all intents and purposes, at this point you’re not his mother.”

“There’d better be a point to this,” she growled, feeling the sting of having someone else confirm what she already knew, and cracked open an eye to glare at him, “or Thatch will be cooking blue chicken for dinner.”

“What I’m saying, yoi,” he prodded her forehead with two fingers in annoyance for her interruption, “is that you weren’t there while he was growing up, and you can’t change that. Maybe you didn’t get to be the mother you wanted, but you’re both here now, yoi. Stop wallowing about what you missed, and get to know him _now_.” Marco turned his head and added, “Here’s your chance.”

When he stood up to leave, Rouge grabbed his ankle to stop him. “Marco, thank you.” He smirked down at her and fondly touched his forehead to Ace’s as they passed each other. Her son stood over her with an uncomfortable grimace that broke into a small smile when she said, “I can’t get up. Your boyfriend hits too hard.”

Ace flushed and rubbed the back of his head, then he moved to lie down next to her. Taking a thoughtful breath and turning his head to look at her, Ace admitted, “We probably should have told you.”

“It’s okay. I know things haven’t really been easy between us.” Rouge smiled at him. “Besides, I already took it out of his feathered butt.”

“Is it normal for you to fight my boyfriend?”

“Absolutely. It’s my right as your mother.” He couldn’t help laughing at her mischievous grin. The mother-son relation between them had been fraught with tension since her arrival, but laughing about it now made it feel less imposing. “Don’t worry. I’ll buy him something shiny and all will be forgiven.”

His confused expression and blurted, “What?” made her gasp in amused wonderment.

“You actually don’t know?” Rouge snickered which turned into full-blown laughter. “He may hide it, but that birdy is obsessed with shiny things. If it sparkles, he wants it.”

Warmth blossomed in her chest as Ace laughed, and she proceeded to tell him the story of when a young Shanks thought it’d be funny to steal the Phoenix’s beloved golden belt and got first hand experience of the sharpness of his talons. “Poor sweet pea was almost in tears. I felt so bad since I’m the one who taught him how to pickpocket.”

“No way, you taught an Emperor how to steal?” Ace grinned in wonderment.

“Him and the bluebell. Buggy,” she clarified when his brow knitted in confusion. “My one stipulation was that they had to use the skills to make Roger’s life hell.”

“Really? But I thought…”

“That it was love at first sight?” A bark of laughter escaped her. “Not exactly. I wasn’t kidding when I said I robbed him blind.” Rouge became more solemn and said, “It’s a shame I never got to show you how to do the same.”

“Teach me,” Ace suddenly entreated.

“You want to learn how to cheat at cards?” He nodded, and a happy rose colored Rouge’s freckled cheeks. “Well it’s nice to know you got _something_ from me at least.”

“So… _he_ never cheated?”

Rouge laughed. “Oh, that man couldn’t lie to save his life, and he never saw the point in using tricks to get what he wanted. That was more my thing.” The two shared a soft smile before Ace curled up and offered a hand to help her stand. Letting him pull her up, she led him back to her room, where she pulled out her personal deck and taught her son every trick she knew.

When evening came, she grabbed his arm and dragged him out to the deck to find victims for his new skills. There was a certain satisfaction in catching Thatch and dragging him in as a test subject. Rouge crossed her arms and leaned against the railings as she watched her son try out a few tricks of her trade. Carefully, she watched Ace use amateur sleight-of-hand to cheat while her foot dug painfully into Thatch’s side the moment she saw his eyes light up in comprehension.

Everyone was laughing and gossiping - telling Rouge any and every embarrassing story about Ace had become their favorite hobby - and she shared more than a few grins with her blushing son, but he could stand the minor embarrassment since his mother took advantage of their distractions to subtly sign him their cards.

When the night started rounding up, Rouge saw Ace wave at an approaching Marco and smiled softly. Instead of going to meet his boyfriend halfway, Ace stayed by Rouge, rubbing the back of his neck with a soft blush. His eyes darted away awkwardly before he threw his arms around her.

“Goodnight, mom,” he murmured into her hair. Rouge’s heart stuttered at the surprising title that he hadn’t uttered since the first time they met.

“Sleep well, my sweet boy.” She felt him smile before letting her go and leaving. Before he got too far, Rouge blurted out, “Ace, would you want to watch the sunrise with me tomorrow?”

Ace turned back to her, and she sharply inhaled when she saw Roger’s grin. “Yeah!” Rouge watched as Marco slung an arm over his shoulders and led him away, softly shaking her head with a small laugh. She supposed the little chicklet wouldn’t make a half-bad son-in-law.

Saying a quick goodnight to Thatch, Rouge hummed a sweet shanty as she meandered her way back to her room. The night passed by in a light but restful sleep, but it was still dark out when Rouge pulled on her boots and exited her room. The deck was mostly empty except for the nightwatch. She took a seat atop the head of the whale that decorated the bow of the Moby and amused herself by pointing out star constellations while she waited for her son.

His presence brushed against her Observation long before he dropped down to sit next to her. He wasn’t wearing his orange hat, allowing the ocean breeze to tousle his hair.

They gazed out at the sea in a comfortable silence when Rouge bumped their shoulders together and said, “Thank you for joining me out here this morning.”

“I can’t remember the last time I watched the sun come up,” Ace admitted, adding afterward, “Without having other work to do, you know?”

She hummed in understanding and leaned back on her hands as the sky began to lighten.

“Marco says you’re out here every morning.”

“It’s always given me a sense of hope,” Rouge said, softly answering the unasked question. The sun crested over the horizon and shined its warmth over them. She pulled the Eternal Hibiscus from her hair and held it in her hands. The way the light hit the crimson petals as they quivered in the breeze reminded her of dancing fire.

_He always arrived with the dawn._

“What would it’ve been like if things had been different?”

Pulled from her thoughts, Rouge blinked. “Different?”

“If Gramps had left me with you.”

“Oh,” she sighed, putting on a strained smile. “Well, you would have grown up on Baterilla in the South Blue. With me.” The words brought a stream of images that softened her eyes, and she leaned into the warm body next to her. “We’d wake up every morning to watch the sunrise in the garden. The cottage is on a large hill, so it has a perfect view of the ocean. Then I’d make us breakfast.”

“What would you make?” Ace’s voice was quiet, and he shifted until he could lie down and put his head in her lap. Fondly giggling under her breath, Rouge placed her Eternal Hibiscus behind his ear and threaded her fingers through his dark hair.

“We could have fresh biscuits with homemade jam, eggs and sausages, and I’d make you drink your milk so you grow up big and strong.” His shoulders shook with quiet laughter, and she pinched his side. “You’d help me tend the garden and go with me to sell flowers at market where I’m sure you’d run off and find trouble.” Ace at least had the dignity to not disagree. Rouge went on to tell him about the people in town he’d meet and the different places they would be able to explore.

She didn’t say it, worried it would fracture their peaceful moment, but in a different world - an exponentially better one - Roger never would have gotten sick and would still be out there. He’d visit often, bringing stories and gifts from his adventures, and she’d have tea with Rayleigh while Ace spent time with his dad on the Oro Jackson. It was easy to imagine the sweetpea and bluebell arguing about who Ace liked more while they babysat him, giving Rouge and Roger the chance to be alone.

Lost in her thoughts, it took Rouge a while to realize that Ace had been lulled to sleep by the sound of her voice and the feeling of her fingers in his hair. He’d curled an arm around her waist and pressed his face into her belly. Stroking his freckled cheek with her thumb, Rouge closed her eyes and breathed in the warm dawn air. Feeling a solid presence behind her, she leaned back into Roger’s embrace, laughing at the ticklish sensation when he nuzzled his moustache against her cheek.

“Hello, my love,” she whispered. “Meet our son.”

 _What a handsome lad,_ she heard him proclaim. _He’s got your freckles._

Rouge snorted and brushed the speckles on Ace’s face with a feather’s touch. “That would be what you care about.” She felt a kiss on her cheek that turned out to be a tear.

The three of them finally got to watch the sunrise together.

**Author's Note:**

> All art was courtesy of the lovely [@callanway](https://callanway.tumblr.com/)!!  
> [Check out all this story's art here!](https://callanway.tumblr.com/post/619316177080074240)


End file.
